


Just so you know (it's getting hard to be around you)

by Inspirationfeedscreatiivity



Series: Love isn't always on time [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: BFFs, F/F, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, Princess Mechanic, Third Wheels, Unrequited Love, bff au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 11:36:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3766666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inspirationfeedscreatiivity/pseuds/Inspirationfeedscreatiivity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know that feeling of being secretly in love with your best friend, add the fact that you share a room with her and her boyfriend is always around- that´s the life of one Raven Reyes, well, until she decides that she´s done with it.</p><p>Raven's POV</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just so you know (it's getting hard to be around you)

**Author's Note:**

> “When it´s too hard to handle, count to ten and then do what you need to do”

_One._

College. That´s a word you've had to get used to. Not that you didn't see yourself actually going to college, but now when you're here it seems so abstract. So far away even though you are literally standing right in front of the building, the one with a door with your name on it. Maybe it´s the same for everyone, just something to get used to. Besides, it´s not a big deal. You've been handling your shit on your own since you were sixteen, so this isn't anything different. 

It´s just, totally different.

You move in, set up your stuff and install your music equipment in your room. Everything is fine. There´s more space than you thought there would be and it´s better soundproofed than your old place, you can barely hear the sound of your new neighbors moving their stuff in too. How well the actually apartment is soundproofed though is questionable considering that there seems to be relatively thin walls. 

You meet your roommate when she burst through the door with a cute little smile all over her flushed face, she introduces herself as Clarke Griffin. She's the same height as you, constantly smiling even though she struggles to get through the door with a stack of books covering her view. You help out to get everything set and she ends up sitting on your bed while you introduce her to your music. She says that she loves it and that she won't mind you sharing your work with her. As long as it isn't three am in the morning , every night. She then tells you about that one time she tried to sing in a talent show and her mother burst into tears laughing so hard. She ends up throwing your own pillow at you when you smile a little too big at her story.

The two of you share a pizza that first night and talk about school, where you come from and what you strive to become. She's different. Nothing about her reminds you of you. She's cute, funny and open minded. You were skeptic to the whole sharing an apartment with another person thing, but after a few hours she has you changing your mind. She's easy to talk to, and listen to as well. Which is one of the things you find yourself doing quite a lot and well into the late hours. She's passionate about doing something good in this world and plans on following in the footsteps of her father, who you realize isn't a part of her life anymore. Her non-stop fiddling with that bracelet of hers when she talks about him gives her away. You don't ask about it, mostly because you've practically just met but also because you know how it feels to miss someone. You recognize that look in her eye all too well, the same look you've seen in the mirror for the past seven years.

You end up falling asleep on the couch, one at each end, her legs intertwined with yours and the TV still on. 

The sunlight sneaks in at six am and brightens up the room with shimmering light. You wake to the sound of cursing which is quickly followed by the sound of at least two pans meeting the floor with an awful noise. You grunt and turn on to your back, your hands cover your face and you feel the dull ache in your back from sleeping on this couch. Something you promise to never put yourself through again. After a few more curse words being thrown out into the air from the kitchen you sit up.

“Do you need help?”, you shout back at her when she lets out a deep _fuck_.

You smile tiredly and go to check what she's up to. By the sound of it it´s nothing good. You find her standing with her back to you, stirring in something on the stove wearing only her white long t-shirt from the night before. 

“Need some help?”.

She turns with a jerk and wide eyes. “Oh shit, you scared me”. You smile and look surprised at the cup standing on the counter, next to another one, both steaming with freshly brewed coffee. “It´s for you”, she says as if she can read your thoughts. 

You walk around to the counter next to her and picks up the cup, it burns your fingers but the smell wakes your senses. You can actually taste the caffeine before you take a sip. Your taste buds crumble to the burn and it warms your body when the heat spreads from your chest.

“What are you making?”, you ask with a silky voice.

“Scrambled eggs”, she says with a goofy smile. You look down at her pan, it looks delicious. And your stomach roars. She laughs and shakes her head. “There´s enough for you too”.

\-----

_Two._

The first month kicks you right in the ass. You go to class, you come back home, you study and listen to Clarke complaining about her classes, the two of you grab dinner and then you quiz each other on math. Which is the main reason to her complaining. You don't dislike it as much as she does, you hate it, but it´s okay. It's logical, apart from most of your other classes. Music production is really the only class you feel like taking and can wake up to in the morning. Waking up though doesn't become a problem, because Clarke is a morning person and not the quiet kind. Luckily enough, she does make good coffee and a cup of it waits for you on the kitchen counter every morning when you come slumbering out of your room. She's a great chef too and most days you end up going to class feeling like you might as well fall over because of food coma.

You learn that Clarke doesn't keep in contact with her mother. Which is something she doesn't talk about, nor hides. After you had read her mother´s caller id on her phone when it buzzed while you were watching some lame tv show to pass the time you can tell that it´s her every time. She always gets that little wrinkle in between her brows when she reads the name. As you observe that wrinkle and the frown that follows, time and again, you feel your stomach tighten. You never expect her to speak up and suddenly tell you all about the shit that obviously went down with her mother, but it hurts you that she doesn't put up a fight. Sometimes you have to stop yourself from telling her to pick up that goddamn phone and just tell her to fuck off. At least that´s doing something and not just pretending that there´s not a problem.

One day you can't stand it anymore. 

Clarke has more or less just gotten in through the door when her phone rings. You watch her jerk it out of her pocket from where you're sitting at the kitchen island with your trigonometry book open in front of you. She immediately furrows her brows and sighs as she hits the red button. She throws her bag towards the living room, it lands with a thump and she walks over to the fridge.

“You okay?”, you ask and try to read the next page, but honestly trigonometry is worth shit right now.

“Tired”, she answers with another sigh and turns her head back to you. “You?”. It shows, on her eyes, that she speaks the truth- she wears exhaustion as a veil.

“Got a new project today”.

“Production?”.

“Yeah, so I´ll be out of here in a while”.

“Why?”, she asks and closes the fridge with the juice box in her hand. “It doesn't bother me if you want to work on it here”.

“I know, but I need to buy a new usb too so”, you answer.

She looks at you with narrowed eyes before chugging what´s left of the juice. When she places it empty on the counter and turns back to you, you have to swallow back a laugh as empty as that carton. She doesn't believe you for a second and you can, even though you haven't lived together that long, tell that she doesn't. You can't think of anything to say, but your fingers fiddle frustratingly at the edge of the page. 

She sighs with her eyes at you. “Raven, don't”.

“I'm not doing anything”, you say with an innocent tone to your voice. She looks you over.

“Okay, if you want to play that game”, she says with a roll of her eyes and walks past you to her bag and then further to the couch.

“Why don't you just talk to her?”.

“I can't”.

“Clarke”.

“Raven”. They way she says your name scares you, because it´s weak which is something she is not. “Please”.

“No, no _please_. I'm sick of seeing you like this”, you say and jump off your chair to walk over to sit by her side. “Why do you let her affect you this way?”, you ask when you're seated. She tries to concentrate on the book she just opened, but you can clearly see that her eyes aren't following the text. 

“I don't. But it´s not like I can control how I react. I just keep hearing…”, her voice fades and she stumbles over the word which is incoherent.

“Hearing what?”.

“Nothing. Let it go Raven”.

“Sure, but tell me”. She looks up at you at that. “Who´s playing a game now?”, you ask and don't mind the tone. You stand before she has a chance to answer, but you don't reach the island before you have to turn back with rage in your usually calm voice. “You know, I know how it feels to be reminded of things you don't want to remember”.

“Not like this”, she whispers with her gaze locked at the book.

“No? I mean losing both of my parents in a car crash is nothing like what you're struggling with”. You bite your tongue, but the words have already been said. She looks up at you with surprise written all over her face and you feel as it stings in your eyes. You breathe out and with it the rest of your anger before you speak again. “At least you still have a parent”.

She shakes her head and places the book on the table in front of her before she tries goes to stand. “Raven-”.

“No!”, you shout and run a hand through your hair. You've heard that tone of voice too many times, seen too many looks of sympathy and lived through it all with a bitter taste in your mouth. “You don't get to feel sorry for me. I'm fine, I've been fine for six fucking years and I'm gonna stay fine”.

She doesn't try to get up a second time. Instead she sits there, eyes far away from looking at you. You walk around for a minute before returning to her side with a deep sigh. 

“I'm sorry”.

“Yeah, me too. I didn't mean to go off at you”. She nods at your side then breathes out. You lean back and scratch at your scalp reflectively. You can hear your own pulse as it still pounds in your veins and the pit in your stomach aches from the anger that spouted from the parts of your being you tried to bury a long time ago. 

“I don't know what your situation with your mother is like, it´s probably nothing like what I went through, but… I'm here. If you ever want to talk about it, I'm here”, you say with a tender voice and watch her nod once again. If this is all you can do for her, then that´s what you'll do. Over and over again until she believes every word of it.

“She killed him. My dad”, she whispers like from out of nowhere and it breaks you that _that_ is what she breaks the silence with. That _that_ is what she carries in her thoughts. “Not literally, but still, she did”.

You wait for her to continue, but she doesn't. So you breathe out and wait for her shoulders to relax a bit before you say anything at all. 

“When?”.

“A year ago. He got cancer, but wouldn't stop working. She knew about it and let him ignore it, until one day it was too late to do anything at all. The cancer had spread to his brain and it broke him down like he was nothing but dust. One day he was there and the next-”, she shakes her head and you carefully move over so you can take her hand. With her fingers laced together with your own she squeezes hard, as if to check that you are truly here. “I didn't know how to handle it. I didn't really handle at all. Then I found out that it hadn´t been as sudden as _she_ had said. She knew and she let him die, even though she knew that it would kill him, she just stood by and watched”.

“What happened after you found out?”.

“I moved out. Packed my stuff and moved in with a friend of mine, finished senior year and got out of that town as quickly as I possibly could”, she answers and with it a deep sigh follows. You can see the tension around her mouth and the shaking of her bottom lip.

“I got a tattoo”, you spout out.

“What?”, she laughs surprised and looks at you with teary eyes.

“On my ankle, thank god”, you say and laugh as well. “It had been three weeks after the crash, I was depressed and in denial. Some part of me thought that if I pissed them off hard enough they would return from the grave just to punish me. So I went to the first tattoo shop that popped up on Google and did it” 

“You're crazy”, she says amused with an equally impressed look. 

You laugh and shift so you can pull up your leg. “Here, look”.

You roll up the fabric of your jeans and pull off your sock. You angle your leg so that she can see it in the light, the brace makes it harder but with a little shifting you're able to show her the flower pattern. She looks down at it and then her fingers follows the contours of the flowers, petals, stems, all of the different colors until they have cover the whole tattoo.

“It´s beautiful”.

“Maybe not what I would get right now but it´s fine”, you say and put the sock back on. “It´s a memory. A part of them, you know”.

“Yeah, I do”, she says and her eyes fall down to her wrist around which the bracelet hangs beautifully.

“You okay?”.

“Yeah. Thank you”.

“Anytime. Next time I´ll tell you about the time I pierced my tongue”, you say and stand. You hear the hitch in her voice before she lets out some sort of answer.

“What the-”, the rest of the sentence dies in her laughter and you smile when the last bit of sadness fades from her beautiful blue eyes.

\-----

_Three._

You don't see it coming, at all. 

It doesn't come with a warning sign or big red letters to let you know in advance that you're about to get fucked up. Because that´s what it means. The first friend you make around here and this, of all things, _this_ happens. 

You realize that you like her one night when she has fallen asleep right there, in front of you, wearing her favorite plaid shirt and sweats, in your bed. She must have fallen asleep when you tried to solve that godforsaken equation you have been struggling with all night. This isn't something new. You're used to her falling asleep, in your bed, on the couch with her head in your lap, on the kitchen room floor after a late night snack. You're really surprised she even makes it through a lecture as easy as it is for her to fall asleep everywhere, but she does. In fact, you're the one sleeping and then copying her notes afterwards. For some reason she can sleep whenever, apart from at school.

Still, this is different. 

You're not even sure you've ever seen her this beautiful. The way her hair is pulled up in a messy bun is something she only does here, at home, where she feels comfortable. Normally those long and shining curls lay like waves over her shoulders. The fact that she's wearing one of your old soccer t-shirt under the shirt, one with the label pretty much unreadable after a lot of over washing, brings a tender smile to your lips. She looks so peaceful.

The last time you didn't feel creeped out from watching someone sleep you were younger than you wished you'd been. The thought makes your stomach flutter and cheek fluster. It makes you think of what it meant then and what it means know. Also, what Clarke and you have talked about. You can recall the conversation the two of you had that one night when you'd passed a bottle of tequila between you. It was one of those nights when coursework, work and reality didn't seem that great. But not bad enough to quit, only to take a timeout. It was the end of October and you had spent enough time together to not have any walls left to pretend behind. You told her about your first love, the only love you ever had. She smiled in that understanding way only she can and explained that the first time she knew that she was in love that she had all of a sudden felt heavy and grounded. In a good way. 

The same heaviness spreads through your body watching Clarke´s regular and calm heaving chest as your eyes fix at her bundle of a body folded around itself. She pouts in her sleep, like in that cute little “half way open mouth with the risk of drooling all over your pillow” way. You close the notepad carefully and lean over to the side to place it on the floor next to the bed. She sighs in her sleep while burying her face deeper down the pillow, her body relaxes with another sigh and she goes back to breathing heavy again.

After the death of your parents there was nothing left inside of your wrecked self that could feel love or give it. So when it hits you, it hits you hard, right in the face. Mostly because you feel a little weird about observing Clarke sleeping, but also because it´s her. During the months you've been at college the two of you have become unexpectedly close, so looking at her with that new feeling feels like crossing some boundaries. A lot of boundaries. The kind that should never ever be crossed. She's too good to lose over a stupid crush. It´s not like you haven´t felt something similar to others and that has always faded away after a while, this should too. Yet, when you look at her you smile, in that annoying heartfelt way that makes your stomach flutter and your fingers tingle. 

There´s no amount of denial that can convince you that you haven't fallen for her.

You slide off the bed and grab both of your teacups before making your way towards the door as quietly as you can. You make it out to the kitchen, there you put the cups in the sink, turn off the lights and lock the door. When you get back to your room, Clarke has turned and is now facing the wall. You smile once again and turn off the light on the nightstand before you crawl into bed, next to her. She hums to you trying to find a comfortable position but quiets down after a while. You listen to the silence and Clarke´s even breaths, that ends up being the thing that drags you down into a deep and satisfying sleep.

\-----

_Four._

She met him at the beginning of second term. Finn Collins, transfer, cute, kind eyes and an addictive smile, that´s how she portrayed him as she entered the apartment on the second day back at campus. 

All with a tender smile lingering on her crooked lips.

You're skeptical to the whole thing that is _Finn Collins_. Not jealous. Just skeptical. That´s why you bit your lip when Clarke slumps down next to you in the couch. You really try to listen to her when she goes on and on about her day, which includes a lot of talking about the new and exciting _Finn Collins_.

“I'm trying to watch this”, you say and cut her off mid sentence.

“Sorry”. You bite your lip as you pull up your leg to rest your arm on, in the corner of your eye you watch her glance at you before turning to the TV. “You're in a mood”.

“I'm tired”, you breathe out with a bit of regret. Lashing out on her doesn't get you anything. “Clarke, I'm sorry. It´s not your fault that I'm a bitch”.

“Oh I know, you handle that all on your own”.

“Yeah, like I said, sorry”.

“No problem. It´s your turn to make dinner”.

“I´ll grab the Thai menu”, you say and reluctantly leave your seat. Clarke laughs silently and you look confused at her. “What´s so funny?”.

“We both know that you're too lazy to cook”.

“Thus the Thai menu”.

Clarke laughs again, resulting in that little cute wrinkle on her nose. “Maybe that´s for the best”, she says and you frown. “You're better at music than cooking”.

“I thought you said that you liked it!”. You throw the menu at the table by the couch and cross your arms over your chest.

“I did… after a bottle of wine”.

You reach over to the side and take a handful of the pillow, then hit her hard over the arm with it. She looks at you with wide eyes, they narrow and before you know it you're caught up in a pillow fight to the death. 

“Okay, okay”, she laughs and throws both hands in the air, one of which is still holding a pillow with a tight grip. “It wasn't terrible”.

“You're lying”.

“Well… yeah”, she says with a playful smile before hitting you straight in the face. You get in a good punch and she ends up loosing the grip the pillow, and there´s no other in her reach. You're aiming for another punch with your breath caught in your throat.

“Do you give up?”.

“No, not really”, she replies and you swing your arm to the side and hit her over her ribs. Then again over the other side when she keeps smiling. She backs up against the couch and fall back into it. “Fine”, she laughs and puts up both hands again, partially protecting her face. 

“Say it”.

“I give up. Satisfied?”.

You wrinkle your nose and frown before you let go of the pillow by throwing it to the other end of the couch. “So this guy…”.

“I won't talk about him more, I promise”.

“Do you like him?”, you ask and she can't hide the change in her smile without you noticing. 

“I only just met him”, she answers a little too quickly with a flash of red finding its way to her cheeks.

“And?”, you say and gesticulate for her to continue.

“And… he´s cute and really really annoying”

You roll your eyes. “He sounds perfect”.

“Shut up”, she says with a gentle slap over your arm to your sarcastic answer. You only shake your head right back at her and sit back down, but then she shifts in her seat so she can look straight at you. “Since we're on the topic, do you have an eye on anyone?”, she asks.

You purse your lips while your heart picks up. “Nope”.

“That´s all?”, she replies with a judging look.

“What? There´s nothing else to it”, you tell her and she scoffs. You can't look at her without your heart pounding in your chest, so hard that you fear that it will jump right out of it.

She sighs. “Tell me, who´s lying now?”.

“I'm not. Honest!”.

“Yeah yeah”, she says and shakes her head. “Are you gonna order something, like today?”. She leaves your side and disappears into the kitchen. “I´ll have the noodles”, she yells and you shake your head.

“You're so predictable”, you answer her and hear her laughing back at you.

“Oh, and I'm guessing you´ll have…”, she says and comes back in with two beers in her hands. “The beef”.

“You're too funny”, you answer with a faked laugh as you take one of the beers from her hands.

“I know”, she says with a wink. She jumps into the seat next to you with a pleased smile.

“I´ll have an idea”. You take a sip and then lean forward to grab the menu again. “Let´s not order our usual”.

“Okay. Let´s mix things up a little”, she comments and nudges your shoulder.

“Say a number between 1 and 45”.

“You're serious?”, she asks with a surprised look. You nod and she smiles a little. “Okay, twenty six”. You pick up your phone and dial the number to the restaurant. “Your turn”, she tells you and robs you of the menu.

“I´ll have thirty eight”. You put the phone to your ear and listen to the tones until the it clicks and someone picks up. “Hey, yeah. I´ll have a twenty six and a thirty eight. Okay, yeah door A19. That´s the right code. Thank you!”. You put down the phone and reach for the beer on the table, only to stop right before you take a sip of it when you feel the intensity of Clarke´s eyes on you. “What?”, you ask her and a cute teasing smirk pulls at the corner of her mouth.

“He recognizes your voice. How many times to you order from that place anyway?”, she says while clearly struggling not to laugh with every word.

“Shut up!”.

“Sure you're not into him or something and use this bad at cooking shit just to have a reason to see him?”, she asks with a nudge at your shoulder so hard so that you spill beer over your shirt. 

“Clarke, I swear to god”.

“You're lying to me and I´ll find out who your crush is”, she tells you with a determined look on her face before turning back to the TV. You breathe in and out, concentration on not looking at her profile, not notice the fact that she leans into you or that every fibre in your body want to meet her.

When the doorbell rings you're up on your feet in no time without caring how she'll interpret it. Maybe you even do it so that she'll analyse the shit out of every step and move you make. So that she won´t notice that when she goes to stand by your side at the kitchen island to see what she actually ordered, your hands shake. 

\-----

_Five._

You can't help it, you like him. 

He´s polite and treats her with respect. He doesn't shove his tongue down her throat at every opportunity, even though you still notice him doing it when he thinks no one is looking. He looks like every other college guy you've had the pleasure of meeting, ruff and full of himself. Though it´s better now than what it was because Clarke convinced him to let her cut his hair, so now he looks less like a logger and more like an actual student. Still full of himself though, a haircut couldn't erase that, unfortunately.

She introduced the two of you the second week of them dating. Which now has turned into the fifth week of them being more or less attached at the hip. 

You´re chopping vegetables with the very much disturbing view of them sitting close together on the couch. His arm flung around her shoulders and her hand resting on his knee. They look so cute together it makes your tongue taste bitter. You chew on a piece of celery, at least that doesn't make your stomach turn inside out. They're watching a criminal show, one Clarke and you have been following for the last two months. Not that you care, you just noted it. They actually offered to help with dinner before they sat down, but you turned them down right away, everything is better than sitting on that couch while they snuggle up to each other. Being a third wheel doesn't require you actually following their every move, this though is something you do over and over again as your eyes flicker up once and again. 

You take a sip of your beer with a harsh expression. You shouldn't be, but you are. You're pissed, and if you get what want you´ll soon be drunk too. At least that way you can make it through the night without chopping off someone´s arm. The odds for that not happening is better with alcohol running through your veins instead of just hormones and feelings. Feelings you shouldn't have. Feelings you've kept hidden for weeks and will keep hiding. For your own sake.

“You okay over there?”.

You're jerked out of your thoughts as Clarke voice reach you and your eyes find her observing you with a cautious look.

“Yeah, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?”, you reply and turn around to grab the cucumber. Chopping that up is ironically enough satisfying and you suppress the thought of why as you take the knife in your other hand.

In the corner of your eye Clarke leans in to place a kiss on that stubby cheek of his and then she walks over to the island. She leans in and searches for your gaze, which is concentrating on making sure you don't accidentally cut yourself.

“Raven”, she says with a caring voice and it´s poison to your steady mind. Nothing brings as much shakiness to your knees as the way she says your name or how that caringness she molds it in. “You're tense”.

“No figure”, you answer without thinking and let go of the knife when you finally get to that stage. “Sorry”.

“It´s fine. Do you wanna talk about it?”

“It´s just… school”. The lie leaves your lips with such ease it should probably scare you, but you're used to it by now. Lying has become a normal part of the day. You lie about what you feel, what you want, who you want and where you are. Lying about this is nothing in comparison with some of the things you've said lately.

“You push yourself too hard”, she says and rests her hand over yours which sends electricity through your bones. The stiffness it causes slowly fades and when she laces your fingers together you melt into her touch. When she smiles, you smile, and for a moment it´s okay again, but a moment is all you're given because you're not alone.

“Princess, you're missing the best part”.

You flinch at the sound of his voice, but hide it behind a forced reassuring smile.

“Coming”, she answers and lets go of your hand, leaving an invisible mark right there in between your fingers. You know it´s there, but no matter how hard you focus you can't see it. “Ey, we'll talk more later okay?”, she tells you and you nod because words is something you don't have, never have when she talks to you in that way. But she knows better by now than to trust that, so you swallow back the knot in your throat.

“Sure”.

She looks glad. Or is it a reflection of your own expression. This is what you can have, moments. Inbetweens. Seconds that are there to be stolen when no one's looking. It alway makes you feel better and less heavy for a minute or so. Maybe that can be okay for some, but you know yourself too well. This is not going to be enough. She returns to his arms and lean back into him while you try to not feel it, not take notice to the sting in your chest. But it´s there and it´s loud in your head when it screams out of anger.

After dinner she follows him to the door. You can see it in your head although you're focusing on the TV, maybe because you've seen it so many times before, how she kisses him slowly and tucks some hair behind his ear before letting him go. How he gets some parts of her you'll never get. 

The door closes and she comes back to the couch with sleepy steps.

“Thanks for dinner, it was nice”, she says as she slumps down and crumbles into a ball at the end of the couch.

“So it didn't taste like acid?”.

“No. It was really good Raven”, she answers seriously and you breathe out slowly. “You okay?”.

“Just tired”.

“I know the feeling”, she answers. 

You hum and tilt your head to the side so that it´s supported by your hand. Without a word a hand reaches in under your other arm and she leans into your side. You melt into her as always and when she breathes out with her head resting on your shoulder you can feel everything. It tickles when she breathes. You can only hope that she doesn't feel the hair on your arms stand or see the redness spreading over your cheeks and down your neck.

She doesn't. 

Soon her breathing is calm and even, her body heave but soft when it leans harder into you. You let her sleep for the rest of the movie she insisted that you had to see. You even let yourself feel it and think it, that this could possibly, in another universe, be the something else than what it is.

\-----

_Six._

You turn and twist. The discomfort isn't caused by your position or the mattress. It's the noise that brings tension to every one of your limbs. Shutting it out doesn't work, it's too late for that, you've already heard it. You're disgusted by yourself. Truly ashamed. Still, that doesn't stop your body from reacting the way it does. The blood running in your veins boils with a brutality that leaves your mind cloudy. You make an attempt to cool down by kicking of the covers, leaving your bare legs to the air. But the air is heavy and stuffy. Hands clutch to the sheets as a last way out, but that's better than where you really want them to be. Where they can not be clutching. Where you need them to be touching. Lungs suck in a deep breath through shaky lips and, God, you don't need to be touching or be touched to feel it. There's that noise again and it sets off an avalanche inside you, it rolls down your chest, digs down into the pit of your stomach and crashes right at the center.

A growl escapes dry lips and you bite down hard to suppress it. They can't hear you, wouldn't hear you even if you let out the sounds growing in your chest. They're busy and because of that you're left in with this frustration. This _disgusting_ and _shameful_ frustration. Your nails dig deeper down the mattress as a distinctive _fuck_ reach your ear. You would recognize it anywhere, in any and every tone of voice. This is just a new one, but the same lips form the word, over and over again. If you believed in a god, this would be the perfect moment to beg for him to interfere or strike one of them down for their shameful actions. But you don't believe in such untouchable things, it's too fuzzy to be able to fully grasp. This too, is something you quite can't grasp. Because you can't control the way you feel, even though you know it's wrong on so many levels. You're still only human, but that thought doesn't give you any comfort.

You've known for some time now what's been going on. Clarke didn't have to tell you. Seeing Finn sneak out from Clarke's room that one morning when you came back from an early morning run was all you needed. That day wasn't a good one and Clarke picked up on it, but when you were asked what was wrong you lied. You always lie. Having to watch her with Finn after that was hard, seeing Finn in general had been hard, but with the realization that _he_ was the one touching her in that way, making her sound like that, made it a whole lot harder. You begged for a miracle a few more times than you'd like to admit, mostly for the apartment to be soundproofed or for you to go deaf for an hour or two. Miracles doesn't exist, nor should the knot growing in your stomach at the sound of Clarke when she begs for more, for harder, for faster. 

'Should' is a word that often sweeps through your mind, it's the new 'if'.

One of your hands strokes lightly over the bare skin of your stomach. You don't want to imagine an other hand in its place, stroking up and down, barely nudging your breast before turning back down the same path, slipping in under the waistband of your underwear. You don't want to feel the memory of a heavy breath tickling your neck or replace the fingers touching your chest, the crook of your neck and over your collarbone with that same breath. You don't want to feel anything at all, but you're only human.

"Fuck".

It takes a moment for you to realize that _that_ was in fact you who made that sound. Through the thin walls the mirroring of that word echos and you don't want to know, but you already do. She's close. That's ultimately what makes you lose control, the little you still proudly held on to. It crumbles into nothing as fingers reach down and unfolds your center. Shoulders press down and heels do the same, your breath hitches and turns shallow before it sinks deeper, your back arches and everything contract as you taste iron on the tip of your tongue.

When you wake up the next morning every part of your body is dull. Your bottom lip is sore and when you yawn it cracks, your tongue is stained red and the memory of iron brings an unwelcomed ache to your center. You leave the shame under the covers and put on some clothes. With the brace on you get out to the empty kitchen, only you're not the only one awake. There's coffee and your immediate thought is that Clarke is awake too, but then you turn with the cup in your hand to see him.

"Morning", he greets you from where he lays in the couch.

"Yeah", is all you can bring yourself to answer and in your mind you're kicking your own ass for it. "Thanks for getting the coffee ready", you say to make up for the lack of enthusiasm.

"Oh that wasn't me".

"Clarke's up?", you ask and really try to not sound too happy about it. After last night you're not even sure you can look her in the eye.

"She's in the shower", Finn answers without looking up from his phone.

You ignore him for the rest of the ten minutes that go by until the door to the bathroom opens and Clarke steps out, in sweats, a white t-shirt and wet dripping hair.

"Hey you", she says when she lays eyes on you and comes to join you.

"Princess". She rolls her eyes and turns. "Can you make a sandwich?".

You chuckle under your breath while watching Clarke slowly turn back to you. She then winks at you and leans back against the island.

"Do I look like your personal slave?", she asks. Finn laughs and actually looks up from his phone. He smiles with all his stomach turning charm and you look away before you end up throwing up right here. "Say please", you hear Clarke say with a silky voice and it touches something in you that shouldn't be touched.

"Could you make me a sandwich, princess? Pretty please".

His answer suffice since she walks around the island and beings to make his request. You lean back against the other counter and watch her under silence. When you can't stand it anymore you return to your room to get your phone, at least with that you'll have something to do. When you come back to the kitchen Clarke's sitting next to Finn on the couch, sharing the sandwich she made with him. You lean back at your spot against the counter while slowly sipping on your coffee.

You open up your email to find a new one, sent late last night. It is from one of your classmates from the music production class you've been taking. The email only include three sentences, the last one where it only says "sorry, next time bro". You hesitate before putting the phone down, only because what you really want to do is to smash against the floor.

“I used to be picked first”, you mutter under your breath. You know better than to take it personal, but it still stings when you know that you would do a better job than whoever is a part of that project you've been wanting to get since Christmas.

“Hey Raven”, Clarke says loud and clear from where she's sitting and you have to take a deep breath before you dare to look up to meet her. She smiles at you with pure tenderness that can only glow from the core of one´s inside. “I'd pick you first”.

“Even over me?”, Finn interrupts with a smirk to his question. Clarke shrugs her shoulders without letting go of your gaze.

“Always”.

You really can't help that every little bit of what is you wakes up to that and in your chest the heart thumping against your ribs sing a song. A song it has known the beat to for as long as you've lived, but it hasn't been able to sing it in six years.

\-----

_Seven._

It's a bad idea. A really fucking bad idea. 

Yet, it's the only thing that numbs your heart enough to be able to even be in the same room as those two. The third round of shots have already been delivered and you take one without a moment's hesitation. It burns down your throat and settles like fire in the pit of your stomach. The others don't take notice of your edgy behavior. Finn's busy whispering something in Clarke's ear that turns her cheek a shade redder. Jasper and Lincoln are debating aggressively over something you didn't care to listen to to begin with. You wave over the bartender and slip him some money with a request of a fourth shot. If there's anything you want it's vodka. 

Clarke looks suspiciously at you when the guy returns with the small amount of burning liquid.

"You're sure that´s a good idea?", she asks as she ducks Finn's mouth when he leans in to kiss her. It brings life to the only butterfly left inside you.

You rise the glass at her and sweep it before she has a chance to tell you any different. The answer you want to burn off your tongue is incredibly harsh and could expose your true issue with _this_ whole situation, but it´s suppressed by the alcohol. You cough with one hand over your chest and desperately wish for something, anything, that can save you from the ache that still grows within you. Clarke still looks at you with the same question linger on her face and you turn away, because those blue eyes scare the shit out off you.

“Okay, we need to do something”, Jasper cuts in and then he and Lincoln move closer to your table.

“Like what?”, Finn asks without seeming that interested.

“Truth or dare”.

“Seriously?”, you ask and look over at Jasper.

“What? It´s fun”, he replies with an offended tone to his voice. He´s definitely the youngest of the bunch of you, but his brains make up for his silliness. Most of the time.

“I'm with the goggles”, Finn says and you swallow back a loud sigh.

You take a sip of the beer you still haven't finished, with it back in your right hand resting on the table you run the other hand ruffly through your hair.“ _Fine_ ”.

“I´ll start”, Lincoln declares and for once you're happy his here, at least he´s not gonna pull a stunt on you and make this too awkward. Jasper and Finn can handle that themselves. “Finn”, he says and Finn leans forward to be able to look directly at him. “Truth or dare?”.

“Truth”.

“Have you ever stolen something?”, Lincoln asks and everyone turn to Finn, who smiles in that irritable way you've grown to despise.

“Yes”

“What?”, Jasper wants to know and looks too curious for his own good.

“I don't have to say that”, Finn answers and shrugs his shoulders.

“Yeah you do”.

“Technically he doesn't”, Clarke replies before Finn can and as she does he squeezes her shoulder, but her eyes jerk up to meet yours. You don't react, when you don't she turns way again.

“A car”, Finn admits and you notice the tension around Clarke mouth, that tension that means that she really want to say something but chooses not to. “It wasn't my idea”. He laughs, which only makes him look like more of a jerk than he already is in your eyes. “Raven. Truth or dare?”.

“Truth”

“Have you ever sleep with a girl?”.

The question hangs in the air. It´s heavy and you not answering right away says a lot, but so would you saying something right away. Instead of answering his question you shake your head and rise your beer to take a sip, but before doing so you breathe out an answer anyway. “You're immature”.

Finn looks like he´s about to howl, but then Clarke pushes her elbow in between his ribs and he swallows whatever he was about to say. Jasper giggles uncontrollably beside you. The only one looking normal is Lincoln and he smiles a little at you. You're really glad he´s here.

“How was it?”, Jasper asks with a silkiness to his voice you wished you'd never ever have to hear.

“Well, sleep with a girl and find out”.

“Fuck you”.

“No thank you”, you reply without thinking and his face crumbles into a sad little puppy. You regret it all and nudge his shoulder. “Cheer up. Truth or dare?”.

“You're all playing safe so… dare”, he says with new found enthusiasm, thankfully enough. 

“Go get that girl´s number”, you say and nod towards a group of girls standing a couple of tables away. The one closest to you is wearing a red blouse and Jasper lits up when he spots her. He looks at you with a determined look and leaves before he notices Clarke frown.

“Isn't that-”.

“Yep”, you answer her with a little giggle to your voice.

“Who?”, Finn asks and Lincoln looks just as confused.

“Our math TA”, you reply and bite your bottom lip. The three of you watch Jasper walk up to the girl in the red blouse, talk to her and with a very teenish smile turn back to you after getting a number typed in on his phone. You collect yourself before he comes over and fake an impressed expression when he reaches the table. “How did it go?”.

“Here”, he says and hands you his phone. You try, like honestly, you really try but you can't hold back the smile spreading across your face. When you glance up you find Clarke hiding a familiar smile behind her hand and the guys aren't doing much better work at hiding their expressions. “What?”, Jasper asks and looks from you to them and back to you.

“Clarke, does this look familiar?”. You show her the number Jasper so proudly showed you.

Clarke does this half sighing half laughing sound and shake her head. “God, I love her”.

“What?”, Jasper repeats.

“That´s the answer to the last equation we did in class today”, you tell him and all of you turn into laughing wrecks as you fall over the table as little Jasper looks all kinds of confused. “Come on, your turn to ask”.

He still seems disappointed but then turns to the others. “Clarke, truth or dare?”.

“Dare”.

Finn ruffles her hair. “Ohhh”.

“Shut up”, she orders him with a peck on the lips. ”Go on Jasper”. Finn stops making that noise, but pulls her closer to his side.

“You need to…”, Jasper begins and looks severely suspicious.

“Hey, keep it PDA”, Finn says with a warning finger.

Jasper frowns and wrinkle his nose. “You're no fun”.

“I agree on that”, you add as you take another sip.

Clarke glances at you with an expression you can't fully read.

“Chug your beer”, Jasper dares her and some part of you is glad that that was what he chose.

Clarke doesn't hesitate. She does as she was dared and looks unfaced by it. When the glass lands on the table with a thump she turns to Finn with a serious face. “And you, next time, don't”, she tells him with a warning finger of her own which turns into a suitable ´fuck you´. “Lincoln, your turn”.

“Truth”.

“Are you gay?”, Finn asks and Clarke mouth falls open.

“Finn!”.

“What it is a valid question”, he tells her but she turns red of anger when he acts like that. “You haven't been with anyone in like forever. It´s not like you”, Finn explains and meet Lincolns amused gaze. You're not as amused, really, you're scared. Not for Lincoln, but for what that says about you, what they might be thinking about you.

“Still you can't ask that”, Clarke tells him with that grown up voice of hers.

“It´s fine, and no”, Lincoln says with a calming hand to Clarke´s arm. “I've actually met someone, it´s nothing serious yet but I kind of like her”. He smiles in a warm and tender way that you know you've never seen before, the way you can catch yourself doing sometimes. 

Hopefully no one´s as observant as you.

“Good for you bro”, Jasper replies and invites him for a fistbump.

Lincoln laughs a little but fistbumps with Jasper. He then leans over again and turns to Finn with a wicked look on his face.“Well, Finn. Truth or dare?”.

“Truth”.

“Coward”, Clarke breathes.

“Have you ever cheated?”, Lincoln asks and you freeze. Really, all of you do. Finn scratch his chin and peeks over at Clarke, who is looking far away from him. She isn't a big fan of Finn´s previous relationships, that you know because she wasn't late with sharing her thoughts on the matter. It didn't add to the list of the reasons why you shouldn´t dislike the guy.

“Yeah, I did. Once”, he answers and it´s the first time you've seen him ashamed and it brings a big gloating smile to your face. Something he notices. He smacks his lips and turns fully to you. “Raven, truth or dare?”.

“Dare”, you say with more interest than you have for the guy himself.

"I dare you to give that guy a lap dance".

You look straight at Finn for a moment, while feeling the eyes of the others on you. He shrugs his shoulders with a smirk and that's it. There´s nothing left in you that can stand him or his attitude,. Even if you know that he just said that because he figures you won´t do it, you just really want to shut him up once and for all. 

You down the rest of the beer.

"Take a good look boys", you say as you put down the glass and turn around. 

You ignore the whistle from behind and walk straight up to the guy Finn had pointed at and grab him by his t-shirt. He looks down at you hand and the up to your eyes.

"Hey! What you doing?".

"Shut up", you hiss as you push him down into the couch behind him and straddle him without a warning. He looks stunned and extremely confused. You don't care. Your hips move to the music and you lead his hands to your ass, for the dramatic effect mostly but also because of the fact that if you're going to do this you might as well do it good. He doesn't seem to get it at first, but after a while he takes control and grab onto you as well. 

He leans in to you and with that the howling fade out, all there is is this. You're doing everything you can to not seem faced by doing something that girls like you should be doing, at least that´s what you've picked up on. Even though you're a strong minded, uptight and complete weirdo, guys like Finn Collins thinks that you should be out there looking or at the very least enjoying your time as a college student. You are enjoying it, just because you don't feel like shoving your tongue down every guy´s neck that doesn't mean that you don't like it here. 

You do like it, a little bit too much actually. Especially when Clarke´s around. 

Maybe that´s why you swallow your pride and kiss him, hard, open mouth and all. You know who he is, something Finn obviously doesn't or does and maybe that´s the reason why he picked him. His name´s Bellamy, Bellamy B something. He´s your neighbor, yours and Clarke´s. He tastes like alcohol and regret, the last part of which you deny as you stop grinding down on him. For a moment, just one moment, you imagine the total opposite of Bellamy under you. For just one second you wonder how it would feel if Clarke´s hands replaced his and how the flip in your stomach would turn you dizzy if it was Clarke´s tongue that pulled you in for another deep kiss. If only it was her that caught your lip between your teeth and made you swallow back that sound of impatient, if only it was her that your body begged to for more pressure, for harder, for deeper, for more.

You end up sleeping with Bellamy. You are drunk of your head of course. He is too, but not as bad as you. You can't deny it, he's handsome and wears that smirk with dignity. His dark eyes remind you of Ten Minutes To March and _Hurricane_. Maybe because your whole life is a hurricane and there, in his typically shabby college boy´s room, you're in the eye of the storm. Everything´s just calm, clear and far away. Even though you know that _she_ is sound asleep in Finn´s arms, on the other side of that wall. 

Bellamy shifts with a tired sigh on his side of the bed. His bed. In his room. You swallow back a trembling scream as it threatens to leave your lips. This is not what you wanted. This is so far off from being what you wanted. You lift up the covers and slip out of the bed. With silent and short steps you make it out of the room, the apartment and finally you're standing on the sidewalk. There´s no destination to your walking, you just walk, until your legs have lead you up and down the same few blocks more times than you bothered to count. The sun breaks over the horizon and solutes you, greets you even as the birds wake to the morning light. You make your way back to campus and to the apartment, but you stop before you put the key in the lock because right now, right here, you can still keep it together. Hopefully you can manage that for the rest of the term. 

Hopefully.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes. If you had a mantra, this is when you would repeat it over and over until it had erased everything else in your head. With a slow turn of the handle the door opens and you open your eyes with it.

Clarke´s standing in front of the fridge and her head jerk out from it when you step in, which immediately makes her close the fridge and turn all of her attention to you.

“Welcome home”, she says with a that teasing little smirk. “Eventful night, ha?”.

“Clarke, let her be”, Finn tells her from where he´s sitting at the kitchen island with his breakfast. The breakfast she cooked him most definitely. For once you're grateful that he´s here, if he wasn´t she would be all up in your case until you gave up and spilled it all. Yet, grateful is an exaggeration because it´s almost his fault you're even in this situation. 

“Is there coffee?”, you ask while you take of your red jacket.

“Yeah, there´s some left for you”, he answers with a friendly smile. You reciprocate it as you take down a cup and fill it with steaming, wonderful and needed coffee. Clarke´s still watching you considering she hasn't moved even an inch since you got in.

“Spit it out Clarke”, you say and take a sip of your coffee as you turn to her.

“Nothing”, she replies but you narrow your eyes at her. “Stop that”.

“I'm not doing nothing”.

“Raven”.

“Clarke”.

“Finn”, Finn says from out of nowhere and both of you turn to him. “Oh we're not playing a name game?”. The two of you burst out laughing and you spill your coffee all over your hand.

“Fuck!”, you hiss through clenched teeth.

“Here, come”, Clarke grabs your arm and steers you to the sink. She gets the water running and turns your burned hand under the stream, your sleeve is soaked already and is ruined. “Does it still hurt?”, she asks when you've been standing there with your hand under the cold water for a few minutes.

“No”, you lie and she catches you on it by trying to roll up the sleeve. You clench your teeth harder and nod when she looks at you for permission, with slow and steady hands she rolls up your sleeve to your elbow. It hurts, like hell. That doesn't seem to be something she cares about because she starts giggling and you look questionably at her.

“Do you remember first week of us living here?”, she asks and you nod with a growing smile on your lips. “You burned yourself on the stove-”.

“I didn't know it was on”.

“And almost cut off you middle finger, when you were unpacking one of your boxes”, she giggles in that cute way that is only one of the many things you adore about her.

“The paper had a sharp edge”, you reply with a mouthful of laughter.

“I'm surprised you're even alive at this point”, she says and yeah, that glow in her eyes is going to hunt you in your dreams for the rest of eternity.

“Yeah”, you sigh. “Me too”.

“Can you two stop with the cuddling and help me with this”, Finn interrupts with an irritated tone, though it´s not directed at you. 

Clarke sighs and meets your gaze, a little smile plays at the corner of her mouth and god, she's never this close. You can smell her perfume and the urge to kiss her right here and now turns your blood into lava.

“Sure, what´s wrong?”, she asks and turns away. If only she knew that the mark from where she held her hand around your wrist a second ago burns more deeply than the one on the back of your hand. 

If only she knew, you think and turn off the water, without that maybe the real burn can make you forget the one that doesn't show on the outside.

\-----

_Eight._

Clarke's yelling. Something she rarely does, mostly just at Finn when he's fucked up. This time she's yelling, high pitched and long, at you. You're seated in the living room couch, biting furiously at the corner of your lip and fidgeting with the blanket by your side. She's yelling and gesticulating like a mad woman, eyes burning into you when she jerks her head up from the floor.

“Are you just gonna sit there?!”.

You open your mouth to answer, but the look on her face tells you that you shouldn't say the thing you really really feel like saying. 

“Yep”.

Clarke looks like she's this close to hitting you. To be honest, you deserve a whole lot more than a slap. A good old fashioned beat up is the least someone can give you. That someone is Clarke Griffin herself.

“Can you at least tell me why?”, she asks and the angry in her voice has faded into something resembling fear.

You swallow hard and run a hand through your hair that isn't up in a ponytail for once. “I needed to be alone”.

“Alone?”, she asks and yeah, she doesn't believe you. You´d have more luck convincing the pope you're Christ himself than making Clarke reconsider the possibility of you wanting to be alone. It´s true though. When nothing else worked you decided to test something new, taking some time alone seemed to be the best thing to start with. It was either that or hardcore drugs. That won´t Clarke ever find out, if she did she would kill you and bring you back to life just to kill you again. “What´s with you these days?”.

“I don't know”, you breathe and she stops pacing.

“Raven”. You could fall in love all over again with the way she says your name, but all of you is already lost in her.

“Clarke”, for once you mirror the way she forms your name with such care and she sighs. You feel your heart breaking when her eyes water up right in front of you.

“I was so worried”.

“You didn't have to be”, you tell her and she laughs a hollow laughter.

“That´s not true”, she replies with hands covering her face. You can see and hear her trying not to fall over, not to give in to the tears, but you know too well about that feeling of standing right at the edge of losing control. You visit that edge more often than not.

“Clarke”. You reach forward and grab a handful of the hem of her hoodie, carefully pulling her in. She sniffs but allows you to do it. When she's standing in between your legs you move your hands to her arms, you barely have the length to reach her hands but with your fingers caressing the backs of them she lowers her guard. She won't look at you and it hurts you a little. Seeing her cry has always had that effect on you, but this is different. This is your fault. “Please, sit”, you beg and grab her hand. She gives in to that too and sits down next to you.

She laces your fingers together and sighs deeply. “Where were you?”.

“Around. I just walked around, thinking”. It´s not a lie. Since that night you sneaked out of Bellamy´s room you've gone out in the mornings to walk or watch the sunrise. It calms you to watch the sun and listen to the birds, in a way nothing else is capable of doing anymore. Not even your music calms your nerves or the storm in your chest, the jumble of thoughts only seems bigger and you're music has turned into the thing you wanted to avoid. Music had always been that thing that could cleanse your mind, but now it only adds to the mess or maybe it´s even become a mess of its own, a reflection of the things below the surface of your being. “Don't worry about me, I´ll be fine”.

“I know”, she answers. “It´s the way you get there that worries me”.

“I won´t do something stupid”, you tell her with a smile. She looks at you with all of the experience she's collected during her short but intense lifetime. She looks scared, terrified even. Maybe it's true, that she needs you as much as you undeniably need her. When she sniffs again you really just want to pull her into your arms and promise her all things she needs to get, anything to stop her from crying any more.

“Clarke”, you whisper and try to find the words you denied your tongue from forming for so long.

“Don't disappear again, okay?”, she tells you and lock onto you gaze. “If you need to be alone again, just tell me and I´ll let you be. But don't go off like that. Ever again”.

“I promise”, you answer her and she nods. Then she moves even closer and rest her head on your shoulder. Her breath tickles your neck and the hand in yours feels like a lifeline, to a life you dream of every single night.

“I love you”, she whispers against the skin of the crook of your neck and you bite down on your lip, making your tongue taste iron. It´s not that you don't believe her, but she doesn't mean it in the way you want her to.

You don't tell her that. Instead you tilt your head to the side and rest it against hers and whisper back the words she won't ever understand the true meaning of. “I love you too”.

\-----

_Nine._

You cry. Not loud. Not silent. You just cry. In the shower, in your bed, at the breakfast table on Thursdays mornings when she's at Finn's. The only way to describe this new version of you is to drive your car right into the closest brick wall, because you're as put together as a car wreck. A mashed up bumper would be prettier than what you look like right about now, actually. 

You've spent the last five hours in bed, staring at the ceiling with a completely empty look in your eyes. You haven't been fine for weeks, even though that is the answer that rolls of your tongue time and again when people ask you how you're feeling. You're always fine, just fine you tell them. The honest answer would be to say that you feel sick to your stomach being around the one who you love the most. You've never fully understood the concept of being in love with someone in a way that hurts so badly it makes you believe that you're having a heart defect or something equally life threatening. Well, you've been feeling like that, constantly, for the last month. You're not even sure how it feels to relax, to not walk around with this much tension running through your veins. You've skipped out on a lot of things too, said that you're feeling weird and should probably lay down for a while. Your friends think that it's because of stress, finials and all that. It´s true, school is still a priority and you've managed to get up and out of bed for that. But it´s far from capable to make you look like this.

Luckily, today isn't one of those days you had to lie to be able to stay in bed. You're actually sick. A fever accompanied by a crushing headache got you turning and twisting all morning. By the time the clock reaches 10 am you get up and force yourself out of your room. On shaky legs you make your way to the bathroom, you undress and turn on the shower. Freezing water runs down your spine and cools your burning skin. You shiver, but it´s better like this than in your bed between twined sheets. With your back against the wall you slide down and pull up your knees when you reach the floor. The sound of the water, it splashing uncontrollably over your face, tunes out your thoughts. It´s the first time in a long time you're not stuck in the small space of your mind that hasn't yet been touched by Clarke Griffin. That space has shrunk into a single corner of your mind and even when you lay in your bed at night the thoughts find you as you're turned face in against the corner.

You breathe out and open your eyes. The water makes it harder to see anything at all, you're vision is still blurry when you turn it off, but at least you're not cold sweating anymore. Now you're just cold. You put on one of your dad's old hoodies, the logo is almost all gone but you can still read _Reyes Shop_ on the back. With a pair of sweatpants you make your way to the kitchen, hopefully there's some tea left in one of the cupboards. You've already grabbed the painkillers from the top shelf in the medicine cabinet and after a cup of tea you're going back to bed. 

You open the cupboard over the stove, there on the second shelf next to some dried herbs there´s that metal container in which Clarke keeps her Earl Grey. You put on the kettle and wait for it to boil, as you do you lean back against the counter. Even though you got a cold you can smell something, there´s that sweetness in the air and you take a deep breath only to realize that the source of that intoxicating smell is the plastic covered plate shoved into the corner behind the fruit bowl on the counter next to the fridge. It´s Clarke´s brownies. You don't even have to taste it to feel the deep chocolate taste on your tongue. She makes the best brownies. It´s actually addictive.

When the kettle´s boiling you fill the cup, with the tea brewing you approach the plate of brownies. Maybe eating one would make you feel better, at least a little bit less tired. You need the sugar for sure, you haven't eaten since early the night before and even though you're not hungry you could devour one of those brownies in less than a minute. A tired noise slips off your lips when your mobile buzzes on the kitchen island. You grab it and opens the message while pulling at the tea bag, making it swirl up and down in the water.

**Clarke (11:05am): Don't you dare touch my baked goods**

Your eyes widen and then a laughter bubbles in your throat. You let go of the tea bag and type in an answer with your lip caught between your teeth.

**Raven (11:13am): You psychic or something**

You leave the phone on the island as you move over to the fridge to get some milk. Clarke would murder you if she knew that you wasted her favorite kind of tea by putting milk in it, but you're out of lemons and really you're not that picky. Your phone buzzes again and you take your tea to sit down at the island.

**Clarke (11:14am): Or something ;) How´re you doing?**

**Raven (11:14am): I'm feeling better**

**Clarke (11:17am): Good, cuz we got that exam today**

You breathe out and moan frustrated. That had slipped your mind, yet again you're normally not sick and need to stay in bed so remembering exams isn't a thing you normally have to do. Mostly you just show up and do whatever the professor tell you. 

**Raven (11:18am): Fuck, I forgot about that**

**Clarke (11:20am): Kinda figured, but it´s fine it doesn't start until 12**

You understand what she's implying, but with everything going on in your head you're not even sure you would be able to tell a plus sign from a minus.

**Raven (11:24am): I don't know Clarke, I'm fucked up and my head is spinning**

**Clarke (11:27am): It´s half your grade, you need to do it**

You put the phone down and cup your hands around the steaming cup of tea. The steam caresses your face and even though you're already hot enough to be able to cook an egg on your forehead, it´s still nice. You know how important that exam is. How it determines what your grade is going to be. You know, but it doesn't boost your energy or want to actually go take it. The only thing on your mind is the thought of burying yourself in your bed, under the massive mountain of covers and pillows, drown the remains of sanity as you fall into unsatisfying sleep. You can feel the vibrations through the table as the phone buzzes for a third time. You turn it around, unlocks the screen and your lungs take in a trembling breath as they eyes read the words that you can imagine leaving her lips.

**Clarke (11:36am): Raven, you can do this**

She has always known the right things to say. The right things to do to make you change your mind. On not so rare occasions she doesn't even have to do anything, her immediate reaction can make you take back anything. If she licks her lips or holds her breath for a moment, there's nothing you wouldn't do for her. You can read her as well as she can read you, which has proven to complicate your life. 

**Raven (11:39am): Keep the door open for me, I'm on my way**

Clarke holds the door open for you and eye you as you slip past her. “You're sure you're okay?”, she asks for the fifth time since you left the lecture hall.

“Yes, I'm just tired”, you answer with a flat tone and walk over to the couch. You let yourself fall down and nestle yourself into the comfort of the cushions. You close your eyes and listen to the thumping of your heart, the pulse beats loud in your ears. When you open your eyes again Clarke´s standing next to your head, wearing that motherly and concerned look of hers. “I'm fine Clarke”. 

She pulls her bottom lip in between her teeth and in another world you would tell her not to do that, because that isn't fair. You want to catch that lip between your teeth. It isn't fair that she can and not you. She leans down and caresses your forehead, then scoffs.

“You're burning up”.

“Nonsense”, you mutter and she shakes her head. Her hands still caressing your face and your eyes flutter close. It´s the best because if she doesn't stop soon, you'd be looking at her with eyes that said a whole lot more than you can afford. Your body gives in to Clarke´s touch and with a deep breath leaving your lips you sink deeper down into couch.

Clarke takes a strand of your hair and twists in gently between her fingers, then she follows your hairline down to your ear and continues to follow your jawline. Her palm cups you chin before she strokes up over your cheek to connect her fingertips to your hairline again. 

“Raven?”.

“H-mm”.

“You should sleep”, she whispers and you can feel the numbness grow in you legs and up your spine. 

You want to tell her no, tell her that you're awake and you should watch a movie or something. But all that comes out is a mumbling sound. You expect her to leave, but she doesn't. Instead you feel her lift your head up and place it on something soft, only when her fingers scratch at your scalp do you realize that she got you resting your head in her lap. The overwhelming feeling of her taking care of you mixed with tiredness fill you up, pull you down and make you fall asleep.

When you wake it´s still sunny outside, or at least not dark. Clarke´s gone and the apartment is completely quiet. A sleepy moan slips your lips and you groan as you move to sit up. You hate this couch, it wasn't made for spending any longer period of time in and the pain in your back is proof of that. Your hair is undone and your clothes taped tightly around your body. You run your fingers through your hair before pulling it up into a ponytail and swing your legs over to the side, shivers move up your legs when your feet meet the cold floor. You reach for your phone on the table and clench your eyes at the screen, they haven't adjusted to the light. The clock is 11 am. You got three missed calls and two new messages. One message is from your operator, the other from Clarke.

**Clarke (8:03am): Didn't want to wake you, there´s some leftovers in the fridge and I´ll pick up something on the way home for dinner. Just relax and get better, see you tonight. Love**

You bite your tongue but it doesn't stop that heart ripping sound from evaporate from your lips. You quickly check your missed calls, there´re all from Lincoln. You press the dial button and lean forward, propped up on your elbow on your knee you rest you head in the other hand as the dial tones ring.

Lincoln picks up on the fourth tone. _“Hey, so_ now _was the time to get back to me”_.

“Sorry, I was sleeping”.

 _“Kinda figured. Anyway, I'm on my way over”_ , he says and the sounds in the background tells you that he´s already on campus since there people shouting and music being played in an unforgiving mixture.

“What? Why?”.

 _“Clarke”_.

Of course, you think and pull a smile.

“She told you”.

 _“Yup and if you're feeling better, I'm taking you out for brunch. Unless you've already eaten”_ , he says with tenderness to his voice.

“No, I haven´t”, you sigh and your stomach replies with a growl.

 _“Good. Put on some clothes, I´ll be there in five”_.

Like on the second, the door rings five minutes after you've hung up and Lincoln waits outside the door with a warm smile. He eyes you. You've changed into your only pair of jeans that doesn't have that many holes in them, but you kept the hoodie on. Lincoln pulls a face and you furrow your brows.

“You look like shit”, he tells you.

“Thank you”.

He smiles even bigger and takes a step to the side to let you out. “Come on, brunch is on me”.

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around”, you reply and lock the door. He tries to look upset, but it turns into a funny looking smirk. “How´s it going with that girl of yours?”. You turn around and head for the stairs.

“Fine, actually she wanted to know if-”.

The next door to your right slides open and Bellamy steps out, you take one step to the side but he doesn't see you in time and you nearly walk into him although your attempts to avoid exactly that. He grabs you by your shoulders to keep you from tripping over.

“Sorry I- Raven”, he lights up at the sight of you and it isn't the normal smirk he usually wears like a props.

“Bellamy”, you manage to get out although you feel a sting of shame hit you in the chest. You haven't seen or talked to him since after that night. Bellamy lets go off your shoulders but you end up just looking at each other, until Lincoln clears his throat over exaggeratedly loud. You take a step back. “Lincoln, this is Bellamy Blake”.

Lincoln extends his hand to Bellamy, as Bellamy shakes it he makes a confused face. “Blake you said?”.

“Yeah”, Bellamy answers and they stop shaking. “Wait… your name´s Lincoln?”.

You look from one of the boys to the other and back again without understanding what´s happening. From inside Bellamy´s apartment something makes an frustrating moan.

“Bell, why do you have to leave everything out?”, a woman´s voice yell and Lincoln makes a face you have never seen before, it almost looks like he´s blushing. 

She appears at the door two seconds later, all her stunning self. When she sees you she smiles a little, ever so politely. But then her eyes fall on Lincoln, wander to Bellamy and back to you for a moment. She mirrors Lincolns expression.

“Oh”.

“Oh?”, you ask and turn to Lincoln. He swallows hard and with that everything fall into place. “Oh, you're…”.

“I am”, the girl fills in and smile a little bit bigger with a hint of red on her cheeks. “Hi, I'm Octavia”.

“Raven”, you say and peek over at the boys that haven't made a sound in an impressive amount of time. “So you are?”, you move your hand between Octavia and Bellamy.

“She's my little sister”, Bellamy says and you feel like laughing.

No one says anything and you can barely keep it together. Lincoln is a private person, so you're not surprised that he hasn't been all that open about his relationship with this Octavia Blake. Bellamy Blake´s sister, little cute and lookalike sister. But this, this is just hilarious.

“I'm guessing this wasn't what meeting the family was suppose to be like”, you comment and take a closer look at Lincoln. He blinks before meeting your gaze and you notice the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth. 

“No, not really”, he says and you're glad that the Lincoln you know is still in there somewhere.

“Anyway, he´s taking me out for brunch. Do you guys wanna tag along?”.

Octavia looks to Bellamy and then to Lincoln. You thought it was a Bellamy thing, the smirk he owns, but now you realize that it´s a Blake thing. Bellamy nods and reach for the door handle.

“Why not”, he says. “Might as well get over and done with this awkwardness”.

“Great, let´s go”, you laugh and steer Lincoln towards the stairs. When you get down to the entrance you let Bellamy walk past you as you cross the street, you fall in next to Octavia. “So tell me, how´s it like to be relative to Bellamy Smirkface Blake?”.

Octavia scoffs and you watch her relax her shoulders, when she turns to you she's smiling in a precious way and you can see why Lincoln fell for her. “Horrible”. She nods to herself and you scoff.

“I can imagine”.

“How long have you know Lincoln?”.

“He´s friends with a classmate of mine”, you tell her. “We met at a party in like September, I think”.

“So you know Clarke and Finn too?”. You flinch to the sound of their names in the same sentence, you would only to _hers_ but together they just feel like a gunshot to the chest.

“Yeah, she's my roommate”.

“She's the hot blonde Bellamy talks nonstop about?”.

“I didn't know he did”, you tell her with a sarcastic laugh.

“He does and you too obviously, I had to listen to you and him hooking up for a week”. You look at her with wide eyes and she swallows back a laugh of her own. “Oh no, we talk about everything. Honesty is like a policy for us”.

“Didn't know he likes to brag”.

“Well, when he actually get the chance to sleep with girls as good looking as you there´s nothing stopping him”, she says and you feel the compliment cause a little flash of red to the back of your neck.

“Lincoln! Hold on to this one”, you shout at the boys and notice the proud smile plastered all over Octavia´s face. It was a joke, but you can sense that she's a good girl. The kind of good bad girl that Lincoln needs and Bellamy hasn't killed him yet so maybe they're getting along too.

**Lincoln (7:40pm): Thank you! O loves you**

**Raven (7:43pm): No probs, she's perfect for you Linc**

**Lincoln (7:50pm): Yeah, I'm starting to think that too. Up for dinner on Saturday, can double with Bellamy?**

**Raven (7:51pm): No thank you, dinner´s good but not him**

**Lincoln (7:52pm): I thought you liked him…?**

**Raven (7:54pm): I do, but I don't if you get what I mean**

**Raven (7:55pm): Clarke just got in. Text me the details on dinner tomorrow**

“Hey”, you say and put down your phone. 

Clarke sighs and drops the bag with groceries on the kitchen island with a thud. “Hi, feeling better?”.

“Yeah, I do”, you answer and go to help her unpack. You watch her for a moment while she gets the fridge stocked. After the day you've had, you're really glad to see her and she's here. She's here with you even though you know that Wednesdays are Finn´s nights, those are their date night´s and has been since the beginning. It´s their night, and still here she is. With you, taking care of you. You bite your lip and play with the thought for a moment, just for a moment the thought of telling her something, a little itty bitty something, seems not too scary. 

You take a deep breath and leap in the direction you've avoided, even though it would take a dozen of those leaps to actually get anywhere. “Thank you for yesterday, for convincing me to take that exam and then staying with me when I was totally out of it”.

Clarke scoffs and furrows her brows at you. “That was nothing”.

“Still”, you reply and wait for her to answer. She doesn't, instead she smiles at you. You unpack the rest under silence. She must sense that you're waiting for her to say something because she stops all of a sudden and lift her gaze to meet yours.

“Raven, you would have done the same for me”, she says with a tenderness you have a hard time not giving in to in itself. A goofy little smile fills up her face and it makes her giggle. She's still looking straight at you when she says the thing that makes you clench to the counter. 

“Probably a little bit more”.

You ignore the hint of a question to her statement and walk over to the other end of the island. If she had moved you would have heard it, but there´s nothing. She just observes you until you stop walking. Everything in you tells you that this, this is it, this is the time to do something about the one thing in this world that you fear the most.

But you can't get the words out, not the right ones anyway. 

With a deep breath you pull away from that gorgeous gaze of hers and look down at the things she left out when you were unpacking.

“What's for dinner?”.

\-----

_Ten._

You plan on doing it without her knowing. It seems like that's the best choice. In some ways it´s like ripping off a bandage, if not for her then for you. She won't be home before after her last lecture of the day, as always, because it´s a Thursday morning. 

It´s been three more weeks, three weeks of you slowly dying inside while she goes on with her life. Her life with Finn. It´s not like she's been neglecting you, not at all. But if she's noticed the change in your behavior she hasn't said anything about it. Some part of you miss the simplicity of it being only the two of you, like it was the first couple of months, but as soon as those thoughts sweep through your mind you're overwhelmed with shame. Clarke deserves the best of everything. If there´s anyone who is worthy of complete and utter happiness, it´s her. Having you in her life, the way you are in her life, isn't contributing to that happiness. That is something that you've had to accept. Maybe you've known how it would end, subconsciously, but it wasn't until this morning that you made the choice, consciously, to do something about it.

You got all of your clothes thrown down into two bags. Your book shelves are cleared out, every single one of your books are packed down into a moving box together with your photos and you still got an empty on to fill. All you music equipment still need to be organised and set, you're not bringing any of it with you when you leave so it has to be wrapped and packed down with the rest. It´s the last week of the term so booking a moving firm to come get the rest of your stuff before the end of the week was a nightmare, but you got a hold of a guy who had an opportunity to deliver them to your next location. Where that location will be isn't all that clear to you yet. All you know is that you have to get away, but until you know where _away_ is you´ll rent a storage unit to keep you stuff. You´ll come back on Sunday and make sure that they move everything to the right unit, but before that day come you need to get out of here.

You've been up since six am, running around and taking down everything that is yours. The few things that Clarke and you bought together because of the convenience of not paying for it all on your own, you leave for her. When you got all your records and classwork down you move the boxes to next to the bed. You only take a pause to get something to eat, a banana or sandwich or something. It´s when you're standing at the kitchen island that you get the unexpected urge to write, to explain or simply leave something behind. So you do. On a piece of paper you write the thing you can't tell her face to face. You know that she'll understand, not the part where you leave without saying anything, but definitely the message. She'll understand, not right away but with time she'll see the things she wouldn't and couldn't when you were here. And she'll be out of here before Sunday, to go to NY with Finn.

At ten thirty five you're ready. With slow and heavy steps you take one last look of the apartment, of the memories that cover these walls, the laughter and crying, all the things you´ll precious and remember. The tears you've been holding back prickle behind your eyes and you sniff uncontrollably before turning to the door.

She comes home the moment you're about to leave. 

She literally opens the door as you reach for the handle and catches you red handed, one bag hanging over your shoulder and another in your hand. She looks at you with a smile, all while you stare back at her with wide eyes as you hold your breath. When you don't react she does, by looking down at the bags and then back up to your eyes. She looks confused and your lungs are about to burst if you don't breathe anytime soon. 

You can literally see the change in Clarke´s eyes as her mind processes what is standing in front of her.

“What are you doing?”, she asks with a controlled voice, but it reveals everything she tries so hard not to show.

You take in a shaky breath and escape her searching eyes. She doesn't move, neither do you. You can feel everything, the angry as it rises in Clarke and how it radiates from her. You try to answer, but there´s nothing left in you to answer her. Every ounce of energy has been used to get ready for this exact moment. 

There´s nothing left.

“Raven”. Your name is hard and sharp when she breathes it, nothing like you've ever heard it before. “Answer me”, she tells you and your eyes flutter close when you hear the mix of fury and panic in her voice.

You open your mouth again, but before you have chance to say anything at all she pushes forward making you step back. She shuts the door behind her without looking away from you and it closes with a slam. You don't dare to look away now when she's obviously going to turn you inside out to get her answers. Fire fill her ocean blue eyes and you wish to be anywhere but here.

“Clarke”, you plead and she shakes her head while putting up her finger to stop you from continuing.

“No. You don't get to do this”, she more or less yells at you with rage dripping off of every word. “What were you even thinking?!”, she's definitely yelling now. You keep backing up since she keeps moving forward, piercing you with that look of hers. She gesticulates to the bags and around the whole place. “Was I suppose to come home and what, you'd just have left? Without even telling me?!”. 

Before you can react she grabs your hands, forcing you to let the bags fall to the floor and you feel the tears in your eyes.

“Please”, you beg and she takes firmer grips of your wrists. Pulling you towards her while she backs you up against the wall, you fall back against it with a thud and turn your head away from her.

“No!”. She breathes heavy and close. You can feel every little move she makes, even though it´s only the flicker of her eyelashes or shift of her weight from one leg to the other. “Raven”, her voice is softer, still stained with anger, but not furious. So you turn back to her and meet her gaze. 

With your back pressed up against the wall she got you cornered and everything about her demands to know why you're doing this. She stares at you with a questionly gaze and it burns everywhere, you actually believe that your inside is on fire. The harshness in Clarke´s face fades away and after a minute she looks small, begging and confused. She looks at you like you're the one breaking her heart and you want to tell her that it´s the other way around.

But you can't.

So you kiss her instead.

It´s one simple motion. You step forward and crash into her. It´s nothing like you've dreamed of, but it´s everything you've ever wanted. Her lips taste of coffee but they are stiff with confusion. You pull back for a moment, but the urge is too demanding. You can't help but kiss her again, you've already fallen once why not do it one more time while you got the chance. And then she melts into you, slowly, just like ice melts in your hand. This should have come with a warning sign. Especially when you lose your breath that you're already holding when she drags her tongue across your bottom lip, asking for permission and you give it with an attempt to settle your screaming lungs. You moan against her mouth and when her hand folds around your neck you press harder against her, pulling her in with your fingers in the loops of her pants.

It feels so fucking good. The only thing that hurts is the urge you have to fight to not flip her around right here and now, even though you know that she would look even more gorgeous pushed up against the wall. You reach up with your right hand and entangle it in her hair, gently pulling back, making her tilt her head slightly back and when your mouth disconnect you bite down on her bottom lip and suck it in between your teeth. She makes the most satisfying sound you've ever heard and you let go of her hair to let her get her revenge.

She takes it of course with a push forward, grind of her hips and twisting tongue. If she did that enough times she would have you melting down into absolutely nothing in her arms with your back pressed against this wall. You want to give her more. Take more. But you're human, and disgustingly enough you can't stop the thoughts from oozing from the wounds in your soul. The questions of why, why is she not pushing you away? Why, god why, does it taste bitter on your tongue when she moans against you mouth and scratch at the back of your neck. Why can't you just relish in this moment?

That last question blocks your mind and turns your body tense, something that Clarke is quick to pick up on and she moves from your mouth to your jawline, tracing it with light kisses.

“What´s wrong?”, she breathes against the spot below your ear before kissing it hard.

“Finn”. 

“What about Finn?”, she replies with a laugh as her lips brush against the lobe of your ear. You bite your lip again and try to focus on what your doing, not what she is doing to your neck.

“Are you guys over?".

She doesn't say it. Doesn't need to. All she has to do is stop, which she does. With her mouth close to your ear, her breaths making the hair on your neck stand, she stops moving all together. You really don't want to read into it, don't want to understand what it means or what it sets of inside your mind.

“Raven”, she murmurs.

“I have to go”.

You push her off and rush to the bags, rip them up from the floor, the door doesn't open quickly enough and the bags slam against the frame as you rush through it.

“Raven!”.

You don't turn around. Don't stop. Just keep moving, taking the stairs two and two even though you know it puts too much pressure on your brace as you rush down to the entrance. After a quiet and distant taxi ride to the train station you jump on the first train that leaves within the next ten minutes. You can still taste coffee on the tip of your tongue and it threatens to turn your body inside out. 

Your phone has been buzzing nonstop since you left the apartment, you didn't have the courage to pull it out in the taxi and even now you're scared that it will make you want to abandon your plane. The bulletproofed plan that is going to make you wish that you were dead, but with time will make you feel somewhat whole again. You don't have to check to know that it´s Clarke, that´s why you've dodged every single one of her attempts to get through to you. You pull the phone out and take out the battery, that way you won't be tempted to check if she's moved on to message bombing you.

The train leaves the station, with you resting your temple against the cold window. You regret that you never said anything before. Just said it and moved on from that. Still, you know that you had to do what you eventually did, because Clarke loves Finn and would never leave him. Which would have lead to you stuck as the third wheel for the rest of the next few years and you could never have been able to live another minute as the audience to their love.

Next to the pile of magazines on the kitchen island lays that CD you played her that first night when you've only known each other for less than two hours, the one you know she'll find sooner than later. Under it there´s a handwritten note, a short and precise message filled with all the things you couldn't tell her when you had the opportunity to do just that. When she finds the CD she'll hate you for a couple of minutes, maybe want to trash the it, but she won't, because she'll know what it means. And when she picks it up to go play it she'll see the note and then, she'll really hate you and maybe shed a tear or two. Because she knows better than anyone that the words you can't say are the ones that mean the most to you.

\-----

_Take care of yourself. I love you Clarke.  
/R_

**Author's Note:**

> find me on inspiration-feeds-creatiivity.tumblr.com


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